Elusive Echoes (17 page)

DC nodded. "Steve Wilson. He has an office
on Angle Road. He used to be a very good criminal attorney in
Laramie but he does more family law, now. He handled Lisa's
adoption for me and Rachel. Tell him I referred you if you need to
see him right away."

Relief weakened her muscles and Mel grabbed
the back of her sofa to keep from sagging to the floor. "Thank
you."

DC crossed the room to leave but he turned
at the door. "You're not alone, Mel. You need help, don't be afraid
to ask."

She smiled against her sadness. "I
know."

DC pulled open the door and exclaimed in
surprise. "Hey there, Ford."

A little thrill of excitement set up
residence in her stomach. The Jeep might be a used vehicle, but it
was nicer than anything she'd ever been able to call her own. "He's
delivering my new ride." Mel grabbed a jacket and they all moved
outside.

"I didn't think you'd ever sell this old
thing, Ford. Used to think it was surgically attached to you." DC
moved around the Jeep, smiling appreciatively, running his hand
over a fender. "You put a lot of miles on this baby with Search and
Rescue. You still gonna be working with them?"

Colt's sigh sounded almost wistful, but it
was hard to tell since his eyes were behind sunglasses. "Yeah. This
one's still got some life in her but SAR takes a bit more equipment
these days, so I'm upgrading."

Nodding his agreement, DC popped the hood.
"If I'd had the twelve hundred, I would have taken this off your
hands for sure." He sighed. "But then Rachel would have killed me
for not getting something more practical."

Colt laughed easily. "What's more practical
than a vehicle that can go anywhere in rain or snow?"

DC barked a good-natured laugh. "Tell that
to a mom with a four-year old. Practical has four-wheel drive, four
real doors, and a roof that stays in place." He closed the hood,
turned to Mel and winked. "Try not to shear the axle on this one,
girl."

Mel shot the sheriff a narrow-eyed glare.
Then she smiled.

As DC drove off, Mel surveyed Colt,
speculating on the deal he'd cut her. "What did DC mean about
twelve-hundred dollars?" she asked bluntly.

Darn it, she'd known something was going on
between Colt and Sean yesterday. She should have pinned Sean on it
then and there.

"That was the original asking price last
spring." Colt's answer was smooth and easy, just as it had been the
day before. "I dropped it over the summer."

She'd never been able to read Colton Ford's
face as easily as she could read the faces of most other people,
even without the dark glasses he had in place now. Mel darn well
intended to never play poker with the man.

She'd have to call him out.

"You didn't drop the price that far." She
leaned against the Jeep, crossing her legs and folding her arms.
She hoped he got the message that she didn't intend to move until
she received a satisfactory answer.

He stepped back, apparently sizing her up
from behind those irritating glasses.

Mel tried for an engaging smile. "Come on,
Colt. What's the real price on this thing? Can I really afford
it?"

"You have the five hundred?"

Drawing a deep breath, Mel blew it out
impatiently. "Yes, I have the five hundred."

Colt lifted a shoulder. "Then you can afford
it."

But Mel's mind clicked into overdrive.
Olivia had mentioned a check from Sean the day before, and the two
men had each stated a different amount when she'd asked about it.
She dug her heels in.

"Colt, what did he do?"

Ford shifted his stance, and she thought he
was going to cave. Instead, in a soft voice, he asked her a direct
question. "Would you do anything for him if he had a need?"

She replied without hesitation. "Of
course."

"And you know he feels the same way about
you?"

This time she was more cautious. "Yes."

"Then what does it matter?"

She'd never felt more like stamping her foot
and demanding to be treated like a grown-up. "He can't just swoop
in here and take care of me, Colt. I can't accept that."

Colt spread his hands. "Why not?"

Typical man, like everything was so simple.
"It's personal and Sean knows all about it."

Ford slid his sunglasses off and trapped her
in his gaze. "He loves you, you know."

Mel nodded. "I do know that."

"Apparently, you gave him a budget and the
only things in your price range aren't reliable or safe." He cocked
his head to the side. "Sound about right?"

She sighed. "Yes."

"He wants you to drive something he's sure
of. Would you want less for him?"

Mel huffed out a breath. "No."

"He offer to help you?"

"Yes." She rolled her eyes with
impatience.

"Why did you refuse his help?" When she
shook her head in denial, Colt held up a hand, a knowing smile on
his face. "If you hadn't turned down his offer, we wouldn't be
having this conversation."

Mel avoided Colt's stare. "I need to do
things for myself."

"Taking care of yourself is good, builds
self-reliance." Now Colt leaned himself against the Jeep. "Pride's
not a bad thing. Unless it gets in the way of your happiness."

With a jolt, Mel realized he wasn't speaking
of just her situation. He had some kind of experience that was
coloring his assessment of the situation.

Colt looked Mel in the eye. "A few years
ago, I was in a position where I needed help. Someone offered and I
said no. I made sure she wouldn't—couldn't help. I got it all
worked out my way, the harder way. And I lost a good—friend because
of it." Colt touched Mel on the arm. "Sean's loved you probably
since the day he met you, when his mom died."

The same day your father
died
, thought Mel, watching the flicker of
emotion play across Colt's face. She nodded silently.

"Sean takes care of people, Melanie. He
always has," said Colt. "It's not just what he does. It's who he
is. And I'd guess it's one of the reasons you love him."

Mel opened her mouth to speak but all her
arguments caught in her throat. Her gaze fell to look at Colt's
boots. In the light of his reasoning, she was suddenly embarrassed
about her reaction. "You'd be right about that."

"He's not doing this to hurt you or to take
away your independence. He tried to spare your pride by making a
private deal with me." Colt slid his glasses back in place. "He
wants to help you take care of yourself. Don't blow this all up in
his face unless you want to throw away what you two have
together."

Mel sagged against the Jeep, deep in
thought. She hated it, but she also realized Colt was correct. If
she had talked things over with Sean and worked out a plan to repay
him in the first place, there would have been no subterfuge. He
hadn't done it to embarrass her. He wanted to protect her. As
messed up as that was, it also felt good to know he cared.

With a heavy sigh, she reached into her
purse for the bank envelope. "I can't argue with that. Let's do
this." She held the money just out of reach. "But first, tell me
how much he's carrying me."

Colt stared for another long space of time.
Finally, he nodded. "He matched you."

The curses slipped out with amazing ease.
After she sucked in a couple of deep breaths, Mel smiled and handed
Colt his money.

He accepted the cash, folding and stowing it
in his wallet with deft motions. He looked up and returned her
smile. "Can you swing a ride to the feed store? Olivia's meeting me
there."

****

Devil's Advocate arrived hours late, in a
state-of-the-art horse trailer, complete with air-cushioned ride,
climate controlled boxes, and a motorcycle parked in one of the
open boxes.

And, according to the
accompanying paperwork, the horse came with a personal attendant,
who was expected to stay on-premises.
Oh,
joy. A bodyguard.

The attendant was a sharp-eyed weasel. The
thought was so random, Sean blinked in surprise the second it
popped into his mind. He shook his head but the thought was still
there. It wasn't so much the man's appearance, though for some
reason, he seemed vaguely familiar. It was more in the way he
carried himself. Sean was probably a year or two older than the
other man, but the weasel had an edginess about him that suggested
a lot of hard mileage. His gaze wandered as he walked, and he
stopped frequently, as though checking his surroundings for danger.
Definitely a weasel. Sean got the idea that the attendant's eyes
saw everything and knew the exact whereabouts of everyone in his
vicinity. While his smile seemed amiable, his nearly black eyes
were openly assessing, as though looking for weaknesses to exploit.
Beyond that, the man was a dandy of sorts, all flash and show, but
without much substance. His nut-brown hair was cut in one of those
careful styles designed to look like it hadn't been styled at all.
His clothing was more suited for a New York cowboy than one in
Wyoming.

"Dallas Northrop." The man held out his
hand.

Sean reached out and grasped it without
bothering to first wipe the stable grime from his own. A small
measure of satisfaction inserted itself in Sean's mind when
Northrop surreptitiously rubbed his hand on his designer jeans
after their hands unlocked.

"We don't really have accommodations for
guests, Mr. Northrop."

The designer dandy shook his head and
smiled. "Not necessary. The trailer has adequate quarters in the
front. I'd be appreciative if you can give me a place to hook up
for electricity and allow me the use of shower facilities."

Sean gave the man a long appraising look. He
didn't carry himself like someone who followed the U.S.
thoroughbred racing circuit, eastern or western. Nor did Sean think
he came from the international scene. He definitely wasn't rodeo or
ranch. Oddly, he seemed to struggle to fit into his own skin.

Shifting his attention to the rear of the
trailer, where the driver cautiously opened the doors and pulled
out the ramp, Sean could already feel a sense of trouble. He was
aware that Devil's Advocate had extensive injuries. Pain from burns
wasn't easily forgotten, not to mention the terror the animal had
undoubtedly felt when he'd been trapped in the flames.

He'd read and re-read the history of the
incident and the one thing that always stood out was how the
reports really gave no information beyond a vague mention of
injuries and a horse who had what amounted to posttraumatic stress
disorder.

Devil's Advocate was already snorting and
agitatedly shuffling his feet. Not necessarily a bad sign. Some
horses didn't travel well and became anxious to get their feet on
solid ground.

"Sorry. I guess the tranquilizer wore off,"
said Northrop.

"So you tranqued him?" No surprise there.
Sean suppressed his anger. He'd reserve judgment. Some horses
needed sedation to travel and this one had been through a major
trauma.

Northrop huffed out a sarcastic laugh.
"Freakin' thing's not amenable to being handled unless he's shot up
with feel-good drugs."

Okay, maybe now he'd judge after all.

Sean pointed to the main stable. "He's got
the first stall on the right through there. You can unload him and
get him settled."

When Northrop simply stood and stared, Sean
raised an eyebrow. "Problem?"

Northrop shrugged. "I'm just here to oversee
his rehab. I'm not his handler." And sure as heck didn't give a
crap about the horse, either, from the look of things.

Sean shook his head and gave the man another
long stare. What did this dude's job description actually entail?
And how much was he being paid to loaf on the job?

"Thing is, Mr. Northrop, the horse doesn't
know me at all. He's just had a long trip from California and he's
coming off a tranq. He's gonna be looking for a familiar face."

Northrop shrugged. "Truth is, McGee, I'm not
all that familiar to him. I never saw him before last week."

Inside the trailer, the clatter of hooves
began to escalate. If they didn't get the horse out soon, Devil's
Advocate would have to be sedated again. Sean figured he'd be
having an interesting phone conversation with the owners later, and
odds were his fee was about to go up substantially.

Sean ignored the ramp and swung himself up
into the trailer. In the dim light, he could barely see the horse,
but his ears were flattened and he was shaking his head from side
to side.

"Hey, buddy, take it easy." Moving slowly,
Sean got close enough to see the horse was cross tethered,
inhibiting some of his restless movements.

When Sean reached up, the horse snorted and
pulled his head back. "Calm down, big fella. You're safe. No one's
gonna hurt you now."

Sean kept up a running monologue of
reassuring murmurs as he unclipped the tethers from the sides of
the box. Devil's Advocate was tall, at the upper limits of height
for a thoroughbred, probably seventeen hands or just under. His
chest was deep and his long neck led to a finely chiseled head.

Once Devil's Advocate was off the tethers,
Sean was able to coax him forward one shuffling step at a time. At
least he wasn't behaving aggressively, but Sean divided his
attention between the horse and the path they were taking to the
outside. He saw the sunlight at the door to the trailer growing
closer as they edged along. So did the horse. Devil's Advocate
snorted and tossed his head but kept up the slow forward
momentum.

With a hollow thud of metal-shod hooves on
the rubber-matted ramp, they were out of the dimly lit trailer. The
glare of midafternoon sun momentarily blinded Sean and he faltered
at the top of the ramp so his eyes could adjust. When he started
walking again, leading the horse into the light, Devil's Advocate
tugged hard on the lead but the light seemed to dazzle him, too,
and he calmed enough to keep moving forward. His ears were pricked
forward now, his eyes showing white.